Making a “Splash”
I saw “Splash” 22 years ago tonight … well, the first part, anyway.
It was a warm summer evening. We sat at a patio table in front of the theater, maybe having a cocktail. He brought me a rose; I still have it. Entertaining chatter, light flirting. He’d been working up to it for months, but had yet to make his move.
A long-ago hurt came up, and tears rolled down my face. He put his hand over mine, a gesture to comfort me. But it woke up my emotions. I leaned in. Kissed him. With everything I had. And, boy, did he give back.
The movie started. We were sitting on the back row. Necking like teenagers. Left about 30 minutes into the film. It wasn’t the time for a movie.
There’s this wonderful park nearby. A public pool was visible from the street, but hidden in the trees was a lodge and picnic tables. We kissed and whispered and played and … well, my aunts and uncles read this blog, so let’s just say it was a beautiful moment under the stars.
Funny that he remembers more of the details than I do. But I remember that the night was perfect … and so were we, for a while.
We later saw “Splash” all the way through. I loved it; Tom Hanks was simply darling in it.